


When Carlisle met Peter

by Franksstiletto



Series: Never Lands [1]
Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franksstiletto/pseuds/Franksstiletto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts out like most relationships do, you know sick of the scene, so you go out and suddenly there they are! Mr. Right, or at least mister you're right for my belly and I sure do love me some teen blood.</p>
<p>Carlisle is a bit out of it these days after being on a diet for about forty years, everyones getting on his nerves, especially this kid. But hey, all it takes is a little rum a little talk and a near death experience to bring people together.</p>
<p>All he wants to do is make rich people suffer!</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Carlisle met Peter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My failing sanity.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+failing+sanity.).



> And a shout out to my Girl Lauren Post for being my Beta! Thanks for the biting review, it certainly was inspiring!

The wooden sign to Smith’s tavern moved languidly back and forth below him as he stared immobile at the streets below. Fat heirs and heiresses stepped over the bodies which lay strewn about the street as they chatted about what “So and so did at the masquerade,” and the “why I nevers” which followed echoed throughout the street in a rally of cackling delight. 

He was appalled; outraged even, although it was he that had placed those bodies so carefully on the cobblestone below. How could these pigs among men defile their brethren enough to ignore their very presence in merriment? Were they not men too? He could not fathom how man’s compassion could devolve into such a state of indifference.

Standing pensive and breathless in the window, an opening in the heavens appeared just then which indicated the sun was at high noon, despite the overcast sky. Suddenly it happened that the slightest of rays pierced the very window, which separated Carlisle in his silent rage, from the pathetic display playing out below him. As the ray hit his cheek, an incredible sparkle fell upon the cobblestone below; which subsequently glinted off the belt buckles of the proud hats passing sublevel and continued unnoticed by the masses, except for him. The sparkling sheen simply glared back at him mockingly.

The devastation of all that just occurred was too much to bear. He drew in a breath, which went unprocessed by his shriveled lungs and retorted in dissipation as opposed to exhalation. However if his dead air could speak, it would be sighing injustice. 

Carlisle Cullen was not a patient man, in fact he wasn’t a man at all, simply the echo of what had once been. Although it had been forty years since his transformation to darkness, he never could shake the feelings of compassion he had for his fellow men. In fact it was this very feeling which made it so hard to watch them die, but even that paled in comparison to watching the grotesque parade of savages, ignoring their dead. 

It didn’t help that it was stifling that day and although he was immune to the change in weather, the stench of rotting corpses started taking its toll. In a world where bodies could pile up on the streets unnoticed and belt buckles could avert the eyes of death, Carlisle in his ultimate sense of consideration felt that something must be done to make these pigs take notice – Shake the very limbs upon which they once walked.

Fortunately, in the warmer months the plague seemed to take the masses by storm, doubling the amount of dead with each rising degree. It made it all but too simple to make the deaths of the sick go unnoticed, and yet he continuously abstained. Nevertheless for these pompous rapscallions, Carlisle might have to make an exception on his oath to abstain from human blood, for this was getting out of hand. 

Something had to be done. 

Shadow-

Carlisle was raging and with the ever-present gloom of the clouds hanging over head, he permitted himself a stroll on the town as the likelihood of sparkling strangers had been brought down to a minimum.

He passed by beggars, merchants, and pickpockets, as he again overheard the jeering and enjoyment of the rich and uncaring. “Oh Mister Havemshire, I’m sure Minette wouldn’t dream of such a thing, perhaps she could give her undergarments to someone in the plague district, I’m sure the smell would be more desirable than their own!”

Their enjoyment was like a horrible steady beat sounding in the background, laugh, jeer, laugh, jeer, jeer, and laugh. It was enough to make you sick.

Carlisle thought back to his old life, how had he not be transformed, he wouldn’t have to be putting up with this nonsense now and burn some witches in peace. It was so simple then, and yet so different in this abominable form he walked.

Times like these Carlisle missed his human body. Although he was never much of a drinker in his human life, his afterlife proved to be much more than trying in his necessity to stay sober. His post mortem body refused the drink. In fact he could take on a barrel of the finest whisky and still remain sober as a priest to pulpit. But still, he required an escape, even if it was all a show.

He hung a left in the red light district as the damsels flaunted their legs and begged to be taken home. Without looking, he knew exactly where he was going; directly into the most hellish tavern you’ve ever laid eyes on. His languid movements didn’t fit in with the rest of the crowd, in fact none of him actually fit in the rest of crowd. He was a young and fit man of 23 human years; perfect marble features and immovable blonde hair, not that you could see it under his modest three-cornered hat. While the rest of them were practically black with dirt and drooling into their pints of sorrow riddled with disease. He would never have to face that.

The walls, if you could call them that were covered with the gunk of ages, as were the customers. They were all smelly, rotten, toothless, old men reminiscing about the old days and their wondrous encounters with merfolk and monsters of the deep.

“Poppycock! All of it,” he muttered under his breath. It was strange for Carlisle to be here, since he hadn’t been in a tavern since his last attempt at suicide approximately 39 years ago. Appropriately it was also the time he realized the lack of effect alcohol had on him, but here he was…waiting for a drink, that would never satisfy. Yet his thoughts continued, raging and venomous, as his posture remained silent and still. The ancient bar keep lumbered over to him in a rather jolly spirit, that really infuriated Carlisle in this mood of his.

“Top of the eve” he said in a surprisingly fierce voice and toothy smile that didn’t match. He was shining a scratched glass on a dirty old rag that had some embroidered flowers on it. 

“Rum.” Carlisle said as he dropped a bag of silver coins on the table.“…There’s thirty pieces of silver in there, you can tell me when I’ve worked through that.”  
The bar keep gave him a look that said, “I am both intrigued and worried about this situation.” 

The man slammed the glass he was cleaning on the table. “What are you playin at boy?” He said staring directly at Carlisle, “The amount –o -drink a purse like that can afford, is enough to kill a horse in a single sittin’, just ca’se you have the funds, don’t mean ye should act on a death wish’. Who knows what it could do to a single man!”

Before Carlisle lost his composure and explained to the barkeep, “Well I’m not a man am I? Nor an angel or a savior, just a hideous abomination brought to life by the devil himself. Undead and deadly, so pour me a drink or on my honor I promise you will be dangling at the gallows…” 

He was interrupted by an ever-present shadow, which fell heavily upon the unhappy pair. As Carlisle turned languidly to face the onlooker, he felt taken by the silhouette, although he normally was accustomed to not feeling much of anything given his demonic condition, there was something about the shadow that felt cold, like that feeling of not being able to breathe in a pool when the water is too old.

It was the strangest thing, such a big and powerful shadow coming from a boy who must have been about ten years old, walking into the tavern like he owned the place. He wasn’t very lavishly dressed, but you could tell there had at least been money in his past with the indignant stance he held as he walked into the room.

Although the tavern wasn’t all too loud to begin with, when the boy shot a head-splitting whistle and the place went silent. There was but a cough here and a sniffle there.

“Alright gang!” He said shouting behind him, “I think I’ve found a good place to set up camp!”

There was a troupe of boys that followed and hoorahed, maybe five, six, or seven, all dressed in various degrees of luxurious rags. One boy wore a powdered wig, and an undershirt with breeches that were about five times his size, another chubbier boy looked as if he raided a tanning shop for everything he wore was made out of some kind of dead thing. And yet this boy, the leader of the pack, donned himself in a three cornered hat with a red, lacey waistcoat that probably would have fit him properly in another eight years. 

Carlisle stirred a bit in his seat as he was taken off guard, but immediately resumed staring down the bar keeper. “So will you get me a drink, or not?” Carlisle queried in a way that was rather “vampirically persuasive”.

The bar keeper walked away like a zombie looking for brains, but only finding cauliflower or poodles. He came back with a pint of rum, which to Carlisle seemed a bit ostentatious, but would do just the same, the bar keeper walked away leaving the thirty pieces of silver behind.

Upon his ignorance of the boy fleet, chaos bubbled over in the background. “I declare this Found territory!” The lead boy said as he stood upon the table and shouted orders to the other boys. The lucky customers left while the going was good, but for those poor saps that thought they stood a chance had their ears boxed, ales spat in, feet tied together, and rocks placed strategically under their bottoms.

Fortunately for the boys raiding the Tiger Lilly tavern, a strict no arms policy had been put into place a few weeks before after a ruckus and fatal shooting within the premises after a man lost a game of poker to the man who had been sleeping with his daughter. The chaos level had been somewhat civil until now.

It wasn’t until the boy spotted an unscathed victim that he even took notice of Carlisle. The un-man had been minding his own business for a while now. Looking every now and again at the pandemonium that had just taken place, hardly taking in a breath. The boy was interest was piqued, so he took it upon himself to make a new acquaintance. He stepped over the bar keep who lie bound and gagged in the middle of the tavern as the chubby boy poured whisky over his head.

Carlisle had about five pints of full proof rum in front of him, with out looking woozy, or dead for that matter.

“Good evening Sir Alabaster,” The boy said making an incredibly low bow, “…. might I inquire as to how you became so pale?”

Carlisle remained silent, making no more than a sideward glance towards the boy.

“My goodness, what lack of manners he has!” The boy pulled out a chair to sit next to Carlisle, “Why if my sense of smell is correct, I would have to say it’s because you’re a COD FISH!” 

The boy threw his head back in laughter, and began to fall out of his chair. He landed on his rump, which contained a few sharp rocks. Before the tears began to well up in his eyes, the blood began to flow and Carlisle was there, already collecting the precious nectar spilt on the floor. He screwed the cap onto the little gold vile without so much as a word.

The boy looked up with confusion into the amber eyes of his companion.  
“Manners,” Carlisle began, “You can catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar son.” Carlisle put the vile into his brocaded vest pocket, while the boy stopped speaking and sat there confused.

Carlisle poured three fingers of rum into a smaller glass he grabbed behind the dirty counter and handed it to the boy. He scowled and wiped his face with his oversized sleeve. His short hair was a bit tousled from the fall, Carlisle noticed, as the boys coat seemed to grow three sizes bigger in that instant.

The boy slammed his cup down and looked at Carlisle intently. “I still say a Cod fish until proven otherwise!” 

The boy whistled and all the boys stopped what they were doing to rally over to their leader. The tortured laughing of men being tickled ceased, the bar keep lay unconscious and still tied up in the middle of the floor, while a few men found themselves in their skivvies stuck in the ancient rust ridden chandelier hanging like a frown from the sagging roof.

Carlisle raised an eyebrow as the newly found silence began to settle in with all the little sets of eyes staring at him like little flies thinking they can take down a horse. 

“Alright gang, it’s a test of honor and bravery to prove ones self as a thing above cod fish.” The boys nodded their heads and mumbled in retort. “And if any of us are to beat a fish, we have to drink like one!” The boys cheered.

“As for you mister pale face, I think it’ll be off to the sea for you in no time!”

Carlisle was starting to find this amusing; he couldn’t tell if he hated these children for representing everything he hated in the world of incivility, or if he loved them for having the gall to stand up to the rest of the world and make their own place.

The thin boy with the tight ringlets placed before Carlisle and Peter, not simply a pint of rum, but two. 

“I want a nice clean run from the two of ye’,” said the wigged boy, “No spittin’, hurlin’, or fightin’.” He paused a moment, “Begin.”

Carlisle realized he could kill the boy, just by drinking him under the table. He tried pacing himself to give a show, after all even if they were savages, they were still humans, but to Carlisle, it felt like nothing, he was taking in the cold liquid and that was all, just biding his time until the boy vomited and was humiliated in front of his friends.

The boy had already downed the first and was moving onto the second. The boy was already getting woozy, as was apparent by his slacking posture and heavy lidded eyes.

“Should we stop now and I let your friends bring you to your bed to sleep this off before sunrise?”

The boy glared back at him and with new vigor gulped down the rest of his drink without so much as a breath. The boy wiped his face clean and glared back at Carlisle, “Don’……Think, yOU’ve Alrea…..dy….wOn this, Old cRow. I’m getting hot, we should, “ He looked off into the distance, Carlisle became a bit worried, perhaps it was the drink poisoning the boys brain, he had to do something.

It seemed that he had put his silent rage at the world aside for a moment, he just felt like he wanted to help this boy, any way he could. He left the tavern for a moment as the boys started tapping on their leaders shoulder to make sure he was okay.

Carlisle went to the public well and brought with him a canteen of water, he filled it up liberally and brought it back to the Tavern, the boy was wobbly now. He sat the boy down and forced him to drink.

The boy suddenly lit up and screamed “Now!” to the room. A set of red headed twin boys cut down the vacated chandelier and it flew whistling to the ground. Carlisle had enough sense to move himself out of the way, but before a second passed, he realized the boy wouldn’t, that savage, cocky, idiotic youth. He didn’t think the kid really deserved to be saved, but he did it anyway. 

Although one thing was amiss. Carlisle had been fasting for over a month and a half now, his strength was wavering, and so was his speed. Although he saved the boy, the chandelier caught him in the abdomen and sent any and all liquids in his system flying as the spiked center impaled him.

The boys ran, all except Peter, the boy had some conscious at least, enough anyway to save a man from dying. He struggled at first, but after a few moments lifted the chandelier off the man.

Before he could even process what had just occurred, the vampire was on him. In a sick moment of weakness and hunger, the boy happened to find himself at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Carlisle drank deeper than he had ever done before, before this he had never tasted human blood unless it was his own, he had broken his oath and for the wrong cause.

The boy screamed, a weak and frail scream that only a shocked prepubescent boy could make. His pleas however like a breath went unprocessed by our dear vampire Carlisle.

It took a moment for Carlisle to realize all that had just occurred. He panicked for a few seconds, for he felt he had to save this boy, something about him was indeed worth saving, but how? Carlisle put pressure on the boys’ wounds to at the very least stop the rest of him from bleeding out.

The vampire held his victim close, “What is your name boy?” he was silent for a moment or two, for his strength was fading fast. 

“Peter” he replied, “…Please…..please don’ let me die,” the boy pleaded.

“I’ll do my best,” Carlisle was always turned into a wilting violet when it came to the pleading dead. He had never done it before, let alone seen it since it happened to him. Perhaps he should save the boy, bring him over and train him to help his cause? After all the kid had spirit and leadership.

Who knew that in forty years from his change he would make another, he had never done it before, but time was fading. He bit his own wrist gingerly and let fall from it a few drops of his life’s blood. The boy turned away at first, but soon found himself drinking, drinking deeper than he had with the pint he was handling a few minutes before. 

The boys hold was getting stronger, but Carlisle was already running dry. He threw the boy off him. Peter collapsed in a heap.

It just occurred to Carlisle however, that there were still a few strays hanging in the bar. Although most of the bar had emptied there was still a matter of the bar keep and the men on the chandelier.

He hopped about 15 feet up and mindfully erased their memory of the boys before he took them down despite their initial fear of him, which too faded. As for the bar keep, he was still under the influence of the vampire and simply needed a good nights rest unlike our boy.

So he carried his newfound partner home across town. Up into the loft above Smiths tavern. It was almost dawn. He set Peter down and whispered into his ear, “We’ll teach them all how to deal with their brethren, they will learn by example. And with that the vampire collapsed next to his charge.

Rude Awakenings –

When Carlisle awoke the next morning, or what felt like the next morning anyway, he stretched his two arms out wide and pulled back three. He counted his appendages again “One, two….three?” Upon closer examination he noticed he was holding an arm that was not his, one that happened to be missing a body, which appeared to be ripped apart and disheveled in the middle of the floor. To his surprise however, he didn’t have the sensation of fullness that would have indicated this mess was his. He picked up the arm and sniffed it a bit before retching.

“Pete?” he called out, looking about the room.

“Peter?” he tried again, feeling a little more anxious than he had prior. Just before he reached the door in his search, a whistle sounded…but it wasn’t coming from his level.

As Carlisle looked about, a head dropped at his feet. It was the disfigured visage of the chubby boy Peter had been playing with not but the day before. As he looked up, he realized the boy was naked. A naked boy, covered in the blood of his once living friend, and flying. 

Carlisle was at a loss for words.

“Peter…how…..why?” He managed to squeak out.

Peter was flying in a lounging position with his legs crossed and his arms about his head. He yawned.

“Well, you were asleep for a few days, and before I awoke you told me I had to teach them a lesson!” He said as he turned over and rested his still attached head on his arms, “I realized when I woke up that I was flying so I went back to the boys and showed them my new trick! He so desperately wanted me to show him how to fly….and I told him happy thoughts.”

“Happy thoughts?” Queried Peter.

“Happy thoughts.” He retorted before continuing.

“So I took him to the house, to practice of course! I brought him to the top of the roof! And he thought happy thoughts! And he landed body first with his head still in the clouds!”

The boy continued in a fit of laughter, which sent him flying about the room, as Carlisle stood in shock at the monster he had created.

 

 

To be continued.....


End file.
